


thieving ; borrowing

by daredoll



Series: what do you call someone who likes your pictures on instagram late at night ? [1]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, college shenanigans, the core four are roommates who roast with care, wow how convenient that everyone went to the University of Auradon ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredoll/pseuds/daredoll
Summary: College is the time for making poor choices that have a way of ending better than you expected. Alternatively, the VKs are petty and social media was a Mistake.





	1. it's a dare.

Oh God. He’s a good kisser. He’s a _really_ good kisser. His teeth nibble at her bottom lip, and she shivers at the sensation, fingers only clutching tighter at his hair as crimson lips part for him. He chuckles into her mouth, salt-worn fingers gripping at her waist, and in this moment she’s honestly not sure if her head’s spinning for want of air or him. She breaks away from the kiss too quickly, taking short shallow breaths as her fingers loosen to trail along the line of his neck. Her brain’s fuzzy and her skin deliciously hot as she blinks. This boy should come with a warning label.

He’s grinning at her as she tries to unmuddle her mind, eyes like the sky looking dangerously  sinful in the low light of his room, and just when she thinks she might have a handle of herself, his lips trail to her ear. Oh no. They trace down her neck, planting hot kisses against smooth skin before settling at the base of her throat. She’d be embarrassed at the soft, mewling sounds she’s making, but she’s too intoxicated with the way he sucks at the spot before soothing it with wind-chapped lips.

Her fingers are clutching at his shirt, as if there’s some way she can pull herself closer than they are when she’s already practically in his lap as it is. Then, sudden clarity.

 _Come on, Evie_ . Get it together. This is a **_mission_ **.

 

Wednesdays are Evie’s favorite day, mostly because she’s done with classes by noon, but especially because the rest of the core also has a solid break time for them to grab lunch together. As the four enjoy the last of the balmy autumn weather on U of A’s famously lush campus, Evie stretches out on their picnic blanket for her second favorite activity. (People watching. Or, as Carlos preferred to call it, people judging.)

“Jane’s dress is just to die for,” she hums, glancing over to Mal for agreement as Carlos and his girlfriend share a nauseatingly cute sequence of waves and lovesick smiles.

“Uh huh. Really brings out her eyes,” her friend agrees, barely looking up from the sketchbook in her lap. Evie smiles; she likes to be right even if it’s just Mal placating her.

“Didn’t you design that dress?” Carlos asks, only fully paying attention now that Jane is out of sight on her way to class. He wipes a last fleck of peanut butter cup from his top lip with his thumb and raises a brow at her.

“That’s _why_ it’s to die for,” the princess informs, vanity and pride coloring her smile as much as her lipstick. In response the boy shoves at her knee with a laugh and a fond shake of his head. She’s about to retaliate, almond from her own lunch ready between her fingers to be flung at him, but another figure walking past distracts her. Ruby lips curl around an annoyed groan. “What a waste.”

“Oh! Who?” This does pry green eyes from her sketches, and Mal’s eagerly following Evie’s gaze, ready to rip into whoever it is, but instead she swats at her best friend once she finds their target. “Harry Hook? Ew, E.”

“Stop reminding me he exists,” Jay grumbles, dark brow now furrowed in annoyance as he continues to wrap tape around his tourney stick.

“Uh, yeah. Ew is the point,” Evie continues, ignoring Jay’s pout completely, and narrowing brown eyes at the pirate. “That ripped white shirt is atrocious. Netting beneath the holes? What kind of backwards pageantry is that? Even I couldn’t make it look good.” Carlos simply rolls his eyes, reaching to his collar for his headphones.

“True,” Mal hums in between a genuine chuckle, but brown eyes, narrowed even further, immediately shift to Mal’s face.

“What?”

“I agreed with you, E.”

“So,” the princess draws out the ‘o’ dangerously, and Mal begins to realize she’s fucked up (she’s still completely lost on the how, though.) “You think I couldn’t make it look good?” Jay immediately draws out a long-suffering sigh.

“Don’t do this,” he tries (begs?), but again is completely ignored.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Mal agrees, but somehow she knows it’s not going to work. Carlos, on the other hand, leaves his headphones around his neck and drinks in the drama before him.

“No, it’s fine,” Evie relents, a wicked tinge to her words. “It’s a dare, and I’m going to win.”  


She’s been on the prowl for two weeks now, heading to Harry’s favorite pub every night, and occasionally managing to drag the rest of the VK’s with her (which required promising to pay for all of Jay’s drinks, and the vizier’s son had expensive taste on her dime). Finally, (FINALLY!) the rogue’s wearing that stupid shirt, and Evie’s ready to pounce. Getting him out of it really shouldn’t be a problem.

She breaks away from the rest of her friends in the crowded space, sidling up to the bar and taking a stool at the end. Black liner and garnet lips are enough to snag any boy, and when Harry turns his head, she’s sure he sees her. She bites her lip, scanning lidded eyes up and down him before flashing a dark grin and looking away.

1.

2.

3.

\--- and

“Now, what’s a VK like ye doing in a place like this?” a brogue whispers into her ear, and she turns to its source slowly, flipping her loose curls over her shoulder.

“Harry, we’re _all_ Auradon boys and girls now,” she disagrees, leaning closer to him than really necessary to be heard over the din. He chuckles lowly at that (pirate’s practically embedded in his DNA after all), and she catches his eyes hesitate on her lips just half a second too long. “Unless you’d rather me leave?”

“’M not saying that.” Harry brings his hands up in a motion of surrender, a corner of his mouth quirking as he tilts his head back as if to see her better. “Ye look good right where you are, princess.”

“I look good everywhere.” Time to go in for the kill. “But I can think of a few places I’d look even better.” Evie leans into him, settling a light hand on his chest before dipping her head past his face. “Your apartment’s just above the bar, right?” she breathes into Harry’s ear, meeting his eyes with a coy smile. She can see him swallow, watches that stupid irresistible smirk widen as he nods.

“Ye’ve got good information, I’ll give ye that princess.”  


Which led them to exactly where they were now, pressed to each other on his bed, her fingers tangled back in his disheveled hair, and his lips working at her neck. She hadn’t quite expected herself to be enjoying it this much, though.

Ruby nails fumble down to the hem of his shirt. Thank evil he’d shed his red overcoat as soon as they’d gotten started. “Harry,” she murmurs, gasping as he nips one last time at her sensitive skin before pulling away slightly. She can just feel him smirking.

“Aye, princess?” he hums, raising his face to capture her lips once again. It’s entirely too tempting to get lost in it, but she rallies on.

“Your shirt’s in my way,” she whines against his kiss, tugging up at the hem. He breaks away from her mouth with a proud grin.

“Anyone ever told ye that ye’re spoiled?” he teases, but she’s too busy pulling the ripped fabric over his chest to give him anything but a huff. He helps her the rest of the way, tossing the shirt beside his bed. Her eyes rove his chest, and this might turn out to be more of a distraction than she thought. Before he can pull her back into him, she slips off her jacket, wetting her lips as she drops it right over his shirt. He reaches for her, and she eagerly obliges, running her fingers over his skin tantalizingly.

Evie presses her lips to his one last time, teasing at his bottom lip with teeth and tongue for one more minute before---

“Harry, I swear to Calypso, do you have someone over again?” There’s a harsh bang at the door, and Uma’s voice rings through the wood.

Evie startles, breaking away from him, and just catching his own shocked expression. “Poison Apples,” she mutters as she immediately scrambles to gather her things. One grab and the princess has both her jacket and his shirt tucked inside it.

“Fuck off, Uma,” the pirate yells backs at his captain (Evie has a feeling he’s going to regret that.). When she looks up to him there’s something in those icy eyes beside frustration that looks almost--- disappointed? “Ye could always stay the night,” he offers, a sly grin touching lips she’d really like to kiss one last time. She rolls her eyes instead, but a cheeky smile touches her own.

“Tempting,” she purrs, leaning in to place a lingering peck on his cheek. “But my pumpkin’s calling.”

She retreats then, pulling the door open to meet Uma’s surprised eyes with an impish smile as she slips by her. The girl peeks behind her to see Harry scrambling shirtless out of his room, and his call of “Ye got the wrong fairytale, princess” follows her down the stairs. Breezing through the bar’s back door, she can see familiar violently violet tresses and rushes to catch up with the rest of the VKs.

“Hey! Hi! We need to go,” she interrupts their conversation, grabbing Jay and Mal’s arms before pushing them towards the door, knowing Carlos will follow.

“Where did you go?” Jay asks, following her lead for once, and she’s painfully aware that her lipstick will be suspiciously smudged when he looks at her.

“Uh, secret mission. A secret mission you especially would not like.”

She convinces the others to stop on the way back to their brownstone at a favorite haunt, insisting that they celebrate something she refuses to tell them about with a round of shots. A few more rounds later and the four are stumbling happily through the front door, and Evie sheds her stilettos before climbing up the stairs to her room. She calls out a goodnight to the rest, flinging her jacket, and the shirt inside it, onto the bed before going through a condensed version of her nightly routine and crawling under silky sheets. The last thing she’s conscious of doing is running her fingers over her lips, vivid eyes foremost in her mind.

 

Something smells good when she wakes up, sea breeze and nice cologne, and she buries her face further into her sheets, breathing in deeply--- but her sheets aren’t ripped? What is this?

_It’s Harry’s shirt._

She immediately pushes it as far from her as she can. What was wrong with her?

(Oh, she definitely underestimated this.)

Time to get her head out of the clouds (or maybe a certain pirate’s eyes). Holding the shirt up to the light from her window, her wardrobe shifts through her mind until she has all the perfect pieces. Tan suede heeled-booties with fringe. Burgundy Swiss-dot tights. Navy skater skirt. Harry’s white shirt tucked into the skirt’s high waist. Black boyfriend cardigan. Red and gold apple choker. And a tan floppy hat nestled on loose midnight curls. It’s truly a work of art when she twirls for her mirror, and as always she’s outdone herself. Very fall. Very cool-casual. Very not-pirate.

She snaps a mirror pic, and is just about to post when she spots the ream of sinfully soft white cotton blend she’d snagged at a trade show a few weeks ago. Evie really doesn’t know what’s gotten into her when she’s tugging the fabric to her drafting table, slipping the ripped shirt off and using it as a template, adding sleeves she knows will be tight and cutting the hem long. It’s the work of half an hour or so to stitch it all together, and with a little magic, a few more minutes to embroider two small words on the left chest of the shirt.

“E, we gotta go,” comes Carlos’s voice from the bottom of the stairs, and she falters with the shirt in her hand.

“Coming!” Finally, she shoves it into a corner of the room for later and tosses her backpack over her shoulder. Meeting Carlos at the front door, his eyes skim her outfit, stuttering to a stop at her shirt. His freckled brow furrows slightly before he just completely shuts his eyes for a moment.

“Eves,” he groans, shaking his head and opening to door for her. Stepping past him, she can’t help a jaunty toss of her curls beneath her hat. _Sometimes it does feel good to be bad_. “Honestly, there were kinder ways to make Jay cry.” Evie snorts, immediately covering her mortified face, and Carlos bursts into laughter as he continues in step with her. Looking down at “her” shirt she sighs, trying to sound a little repentant.

“It was a dare?”

“It was not a dare,” he disagrees, fixing her with what she would deem an overly judgemental look. “I can’t believe you dragged us to that dive for _this_.” She pouts, mock hurt in her eyes, but knows he’ll never buy it. A devilish grin flashes back onto her lips in a second and she practically skips in excitement.

“So would it be better for Jay to see it in person first or on Insta?” Carlos rolls his eyes.

“Just post your ultimate betrayal already.”

And she does, only upping the contrast and brightness to bring out the colors. She’s had a caption ready since she set her sights on the shirt. **_a Look, or Mal said I couldn’t make this shirt look good, and I’m too petty to let it go._ **

“Jay deserves better,” she cackles, and then immediately bumps him with her shoulder as they approach campus. “Go like and comment.”

Carlos looks to his phone as they part ways, Evie promising to catch up with him at home. Strutting to the design studios she flashes smiles and little waves at her favorite classmates as she makes her way into her first course of the day. Slipping into her unassigned assigned seat and unpacking her planner, sketchbook, and favorite blue pens and pencils, she allows herself to check her activity before the class starts.

There’s already about fifteen likes, one from Carlos, of course, and Mal, too. She scrolls through a few “omg love” and heart-eye emojis in the comments to see Carlos’s as the first comment “No.” it says simply and she laughs out loud. Mal’s is a few down “ok just twist my words around. it’s fine. I hate everything about this but I guess you do look good.” She hearts both her friend’s comments as her professor clears her throat to begin the class.

She takes a snap mirror selfie after class, the design studios have the best lighting on campus, before checking her activity again as she heads to the library to pick up a few books. The VK group chat is blowing up. Fuck. She checks Insta before opening the texts. _And_ Jay has seen it.

His comment is “you’re dead to me” and she snickers as she clicks on his handle to go to his profile. But--- But----

Her fingers are furiously tapping at her phone screen as she opens the group chat.

you: JAY WTF YOU BLOCKED ME

you: YOU UNFOLLOWED ME TOO

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: *face with eyes and no mouth emoji*

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: You made me go to a bar with you THAT HARRY HOOK WAS AT

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: Multiple times

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: YOU KNOW I HATE HIM

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: AND THEN YOU POSTED A SELFIE WEARING HIS SHIRT

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: I am So Tired

Her thumb hovers over the keyboard, but instead she scrolls up to see all the messages she missed earlier.

*smiling purple devil emoji twins emoji strawberry emoji*: E WHAT THE FUCK

*smiling purple devil emoji twins emoji strawberry emoji*: tell me you stole that

*paw print emoji game controller emoji black heart emoji*: pretty sure stealing doesn’t smudge lipstick :|

*smiling purple devil emoji twins emoji strawberry emoji*: i’m going to THROW UP

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: blocked unfollowed unfriended

*paw print emoji game controller emoji black heart emoji*: *crying laughing emoji*

*smiling purple devil emoji twins emoji strawberry emoji*: i’m going back to the isle

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: take me with you

With a huff she scrolls back to the current messages, and taps in her response.

you: jayyyy

you: *big frown emoji*

you: It Was A Dare

*smiling purple devil emoji twins emoji strawberry emoji*: IT WAS NOT A DARE

*paw print emoji game controller emoji black heart emoji*: IT WAS NOT A DARE

*flexing emoji tourney stick emoji bomb emoji*: IT WAS NOT A DARE

you: …

*paw print emoji game controller emoji black heart emoji*: also can we talk about what’s going to happen when he sees your insta???

*smiling purple devil emoji twins emoji strawberry emoji*: he’s gonna hook ye

you: please he doesn’t even use his insta && he doesn’t follow me *girl holding out her hand emoji*

*paw print emoji game controller emoji black heart emoji*: uhhh gil follows you??

you: so??

She shakes her head in irritation, slipping her phone back into her purse and fast-walking her way to her next course. Jay had actually blocked her? Part of her knew that obviously it was a joke, but a deeper part of her now wasn’t so sure. Why did it suddenly feel like she’d actually fucked up?

Evie doesn’t quite catch everything in class, the professor has a strict no phones policy and she distracts herself from the itch to check her notifications by tapping her pen on her notebook incessantly. She’d planned on sticking around campus after to have a coffee date with Jane, and she really needed to schedule a time with the council to meet with Ben to talk new transfers, but she’s no longer feeling the thrill her thievery had given her earlier. Rather, she feels oddly exposed as she thumbs through her Instagram feed, and presses the notifications icon as she walks the path to the campus entrance closest to home. She ponders asking in the group chat if they’re actually mad, but if they aren’t then she’ll look weak and if they are it’ll be even harder to cover up. She just wants to be home and sure that she’s not going to be groveling for the next week and a half.

It only gets worse when she sees a “hhooked” has commented. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to use Insta! He had his account on private! He didn’t follow her!

“the hickey really sets the whole thing off”


	2. it's not a dare.

_ Poison Apples _ . This was--- 

This was not great. This was far from ideal.  _ This was a fucking mess. _ She fights back a tinge of hurt as she reads it again; she’s not letting him get to her. She tries for a moment to think up a cutting reply, but nothing comes. Her fingers move to text Gil instead, but what’s she supposed to say? “You showed your best friend that I stole from him?” She’d do the same thing for the VKs. Suddenly she has a strong urge to scream. Life had not been this complicated when she woke up this morning. 

The sound of clapping draws her head up swiftly from her phone, and she finds she’s nearly reached the edge of campus, which means that she’s also nearly home. Of course, walking towards her is none other than the rightful owner of the shirt she’s wearing, and he’s slowly bringing his hands together in some sort of ingenuine applause.

“Harry,” she greets him, wary eyes never leaving his face. 

“Princess,” he returns, dipping his head almost like a bow. She doesn’t appreciate the mocking in his tone. “Ye got me, I’ll admit it. I’m sure yer Mum would be  _ very _ proud.”

That twinges, actually. A lot more than she’d like to admit, and with the uncertainty already in her head with her friends she’s  _ over it _ . Wicked deeds have wicked ends, and she’s ready to accept her karma. Without a word she drops her purse to the ground, whipping her hat off to follow it. His brows raise, irritation turning to mild confusion. Next she drops her cardigan onto the pile, untucks her shirt, and---

“Evie! Wait!” he starts, and she sees him moving forward to stop her. It’s too late. She pulls the shirt off, shoves it into his chest, and gives him her widest fake smile. 

“I guarantee my Mother would not be proud I had to pretend to be dared to get up the courage to talk to a pirate, but you know,” Oh my evil what was she saying. She didn’t. Did she? It was too cold to be standing in her bra outside, in public no less, trying to figure out how she felt about him. “It’s a nice thought.”

She makes sure not to meet his eyes as she scoops up her things and breezes past him. She might have heard him saying something as she jammed her hat on her head and tugged her arms into the sweater sleeves. He might have even started after her (she doubts it), but she’s walking faster than she ever has in her life and not stopping. In fact, she doesn’t stop until she’s at her door, and she yanks it open, only realizing she’s out of breath until her back is pressed against it inside. Looking up she catches Jay’s mane of hair poking out from where he’s rummaging in the fridge. Without a second thought she marches up to him, wrapping her arms around herself. “Are you really mad at me?”

He looks up with a start, dark eyes taking in the mess that she must look like. “Where’s the shirt?”

“Harry,” she replies quickly, unwavering from her question. “Are you really mad at me?” His eyes narrow, mouth setting into a deep frown.

“Harry did what, exactly?”

“I gave it back to Harry,” she amends. “He annoyed me. Now please tell me if you’re actually mad at me.” It’s the please that catches him, something that the Isle’s echoes has still made so foreign to them. His expression softens, and half his mouth shifts up.

“No, I’m not mad at you.” And suddenly she is infinitely lighter as a wicked smirk teases her friend’s lips. “Knowing that my friend made out with Harry Hook last night makes me want to throw up, but I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re rotten,” the princess laughs, playfully shoving him with the flat of her palm.

“To the core,” he chuckles.

 

“So you like him?” Carlos looks stricken, and Evie immediately throws a handful of popcorn across the room at his face. Mal shrieks from her place next to him on the couch, reciprocating for him with the kernels that hit her. 

“I liked  k i s s i n g  him,” Evie replies drawing out the words to get the most satisfying reactions from her friends and sticking her tongue out after dodging Mal’s projectiles. Green eyes screw tightly shut as the girl mimes gagging in response. Carlos simply sticks his first friend with possibly the most judgemental expression he’s ever mustered (and that was saying something).

“Consider this,” Jay suggests, sprawled out on the plush rug below them. “Instead of talking about this we could stop and never mention Harry Hook ever again.” Another fistful of popcorn from Evie comes raining down over him, but the former thief does manage to catch two pieces in his mouth to loud applause from all of his roommates.

“Ok, but,” Mal pipes up, emerald eyes scanning their faces to insure she has all of their attention. “Can we just talk about how this was literally the most  **_Evie_ ** thing she’s ever done.” Evie rolls her eyes as she settles back into her chair. “She does something Vaguely Devious, and yet as soon as anyone mentions the Vaguely Devious thing she starts feeling Super Guilty. You literally couldn’t even go a whole day before you returned the shirt! How did you survive on the Isle?” 

There is never a day that doesn’t end in their home without some sort of mild roasting session, and even Evie can’t hold back her laughter from the others’. In between her snickering Mal has to say one more thing. “I bet you gift wrapped it for him or something, too.”

“Oh, no,” Evie informs devilishly. Looking back, her mini tantrum earlier is maybe the most rotten thing she’s done in a while. “I might have taken it off and shoved it at him.” She can feel all eyes shift to her, but rather than give them the satisfaction she looks down at her phone. “Aww, Ben commented on my Insta.” She clicks further at the notification to read “Beautiful as always!” beneath her post. “He’s so sweet. When’s he coming back from Agrabah again?”

“Uh, no way,” Carlos stops her feigned distraction. “Are we talking pulled it off under your sweater or straight up stripping?”

“I mean, there wasn’t any sensual music playing or anything,” the princess teases. Immediately following her admission comes a groan and pillow hurtling toward her face from the floor, which she barely manages to catch with a squeal. 

“Damn, E.” Mal whistles, sounding a little impressed even as she reaches to swipe the last handful of popcorn from Evie’s bowl. “You’re an Isle girl after all.” Evie, a beat too late, pouts at her empty bowl, receiving a giggle from Mal and one piece of popcorn back. “Kind of. Isle Lite.”

Jay and Carlos snicker in sync, and Evie whips her head around to glare at the both of them, royal blue locks bouncing high on her head within the messy bun they’re trapped in. Of course, the prissy expression does little to scare her fellow descendants, and she unfolds her legs to gracefully rise from her seat when she can feel a smile quirking at her lips. It was unbearably annoying that she could never keep up an angry facade round them. “Ha. Ha.” she deadpans, ruffling Carlos’s hair (and smirking at his annoyed protests) as she walks past him and towards the kitchen. “Jealousy goes so well with your envy-green eyes, M.”

Entering the kitchen, she upends the bag of popcorn left on the counter, a cup or two of popped kernels falling into her bowl. Ochre eyes appraise the bottle of spiced wine in the rack beside the fridge. It  _ had _ been a rather trying day. “Does anyone else want some wine?” she calls into the other room as she pours a generous portion into a stemless glass (her favorite one, to be exact, with the words “haute mess” scrawled in a chic font and punctuated with a small red gem). 

A chorus of yes’s follows her question, and she takes a big sip as she gathers three more glasses from the cupboard. Just as she lowers the bottle to begin her pour the sound of a heavy knock at their door carries through their home. “Got it,” she offers as she pads to the foyer, although it wasn’t as if she heard anyone else scrambling up to get the door. 

To say she’s surprised by what, or more accurately, who she finds on her doorstep is an understatement. Harry Hook in ripped black jeans and his near-signature leather boots, but with a very novel look on his sharp features. She would say he looked nervous if she didn’t know the pirate better. Checking in the peripheral of her vision just in case her light-footed friends have come to abate their curiosity, she slips out the door and closes it behind her once she’s sure that they haven’t. 

“Get lost,” she says finally, when he does little to end the silence. The familiar Isle of the Lost greeting must break him from wherever his mind had wandered (She’s reminded of his awful habit of dissociation on the Isle. How many times had he drifted off during the threatening portion of their standoffs with the Sea3 only for Uma to have to swat him back to earth?).

“What are ye wearing?” the boy asks incredulously, jerking blue eyes back up to meet hers. She frowns slightly, and peeks down at her outfit. A navy satin romper trimmed with white lace, her coziest long cream cardigan, and thick wool socks make up the ensemble. 

“Pajamas?” she answers, narrowing her eyes as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Pajamas?” he parrots, sounding annoyingly like Iago. He looks skeptical as his eyes trail up her body a little too slowly to be just appraising her fashion choice.

“It’s ten o’clock at night!” Evie crosses her arms with a huff. “What did you think I’d be wearing?”

“Sweatpants? I don’nae ken? Just not--- ye ken.” No, she does not ‘ken’, actually. What’s wrong with her romper?

“Me? Sweatpants? Really?” Perfectly groomed eyebrows raise in question, practically daring him to try and contradict her. Harry does stumble at that question. Evie and sweatpants just sounded wrong in the same sentence. Pleased to have proved her point, she cocks her head to the side with a smug smile. “I didn’t borrow anything else, if that’s what you’re here for.”

“No, I, uh, I uhm---” He’s drowning, and for a moment she really wonders if it would be past the threshold of being a nice person to go back inside to get her phone and record this moment. As if reading her mind, Harry pulls himself together, shoving silver-ringed fingers into the pockets of his jeans. “I should’nae brought up yer mum, and I did’nae mean for ye to…”

“Are you apologizing, Harry Hook?” she takes pity on him, stepping closer and peering up at him with a curious gleam in dark eyes. “Isle boys don’t apologize.” A breeze disrupts the fallen leaves, catching a loose tendril of azure hair, and Evie can no longer ignore that she’s freezing in her thin clothes. A shiver runs up her spine, and Harry takes his hands from his pockets, reaching for hers. She uncrosses her arms and places chilled fingers in his grasp, a familiar gesture shared without a second thought between such unfamiliar people. For a moment the two simply look at each other, as if under a spell neither wants to break.

“Well, we’re all Bore-a-don boys and girls now, princess,” he teases, using her own words against her. The spell breaks, his familiar smirk shifting back onto his lips, and Evie rolls her eyes, almost fondly. She slips her fingers from his to settle them on her hips.

“Okay, lost boy,” she concedes, enjoying a little too much how he physically bristles at the misnaming. “You’ve apologized.  _ Kind of _ . Was that all you wanted?”

And yet, when she really looks at him, takes in eyes as endless as the cloudless Auradon sky and lips that lit her skin on fire, it is not a prince before her, but he is certainly  _ something _ . She watches him swallow, catches her own lip between pearly whites, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he wanted something else.

“There was one other thing,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his rough fingertips moving to tip up her chin. Her gaze fixates on his mouth, she can feel his breath hot on her lips, and the air is caught in her lungs when her eyes flicker up to lock with his. His lips meet hers, and it isn’t a gentle kiss but a wanting one. They catch up right where they left off in his room above the bar, her fingers tugging at the dark hair at the nape of his neck and her lips catching the soft groan it elicits. His hand at her chin slinks to the back of her neck, and the other circles her waist, pulling her flush against him. Harry kisses her like he’s been waiting years to, and she gasps as her back bumps against the front door behind her. Just like a pirate he takes full advantage of her parted lips, deepening the kiss and tracing his fingers along the skin left bare along her back. Again, she’s lost in his lips, his smell, his touch, but something nags at her. Something like… Something like…

Something like she’s making out with Harry Hook on her front step and at any moment one of her roommates is bound to come see what’s taking her so long to answer the door.

Haltingly she loosens her grip on his hair, bringing both her hands to his chest. She pushes lightly against him, his lips press against hers fervently one last time before drawing away, and they’re both breathing heavily as she tips her head back for a moment, an elated grin lighting her features as well as a blush. “I really should go back inside,” she hums, looking back to him. He looks just as lost as she does, but he does slowly begin to untangle himself. 

“Aye, I can’nae miss my shift at  _ The Barrel _ ,” he agrees, a slow grin catching up to his mouth. She can’t help her smile growing, bringing up a hand to her swollen lips as Harry tips his head to her in goodbye. She watches him descend the steps, but Evie can’t help herself any longer.

“Burn that shirt when you get home,” she calls. He pauses in his step a moment (a moment where she desperately wishes she could see his face), before letting out a hearty laugh. She giggles herself before slipping back into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so The Wild Ride begins.
> 
> I had this whole chapter notes thing ready but now I can't remember any of it so i guess just...  
> uhhh  
> thanks for reading this self-indulgent fic about dumpster co-eds??

**Author's Note:**

> Someone come collect these kids because they are A Mess.


End file.
